


Scratch the Skin

by havisham



Category: Batgirl (Comic), Batwoman (Comic)
Genre: F/F, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate's skin is milk-pale, whiter than any other skin Steph has ever seen, outside a morgue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratch the Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XIII, for the prompt jealousy.

Kate's skin is milk-pale, whiter than any other skin Steph has ever seen, outside a morgue.

She takes the term _Gotham pale_ to absurd new heights. Given the hold of vampires have on the popular imagination, Steph's a little surprised that no one has mistaken Miss Kane for one of the (ungrateful) undead.

A couple of years ago, Steph had convinced Barbara and Cass to go with her to see _Twilight_. They had been kicked out, half-way through for laughing too loud -- and yeah, the theater management _would_ throw out a girl in a wheelchair, and yeah, Babs' elbow did hurt, digging into her side like that, when Steph was speaking. "No," she mouthed, " _No_." 

Steph apologized, sheepishly.

Cass frowned. "If he was a predator... Why did he sparkle?"

 

Now, Steph doesn't want to think about Barbara, who has a new life. One that, a short time ago, had been _Steph's_ new life. She doesn't return Barbara's calls. (Not ever.) It's either too soon or too late for that. And she isn't _jealous_ , not really, because Batgirl has always been _Barbara's_ , she only let Steph borrow it for a while.

(Not that she actually believes this. Not now. Not ever.)

Steph doesn't think about Cass, because that _hurts_ , more than anything.

(If nothing else, it proves that Steph has a type, and that type is women who could kick her ass half-way to Sunday. Plus, they both looked good in black. Plus, the whole bat-thing. _Bat_ -thing. Hey, that was available, right? Maybe Steph could be Bat-thing. Okay, no. That's worst than Spoiler.)

So, she looks at her hands instead. She examines the tanned skin that freckles in the summer, and the faded crisscross of scars. Nothing newer than six months ago. She'd been taking it easy.

Kate has scars too.

Most, she wouldn't show. Not to Steph, anyway.

“Are you done staring?” Kate's got that ironic ring in her voice that Steph knows – _now_ – that it means that she's teasing, she's not yet closed off all routes to conversation.

Steph shrugs. She reaches out and traces the blue veins that travel up Kate's arm. "Never slept with a aristocrat before," she says sleepily. "How different are you blue-bloods anyway?"

"Hm." Kate's hands are busy. She cups Steph's breasts, leaves her breath short. Kate is... Kate is _experienced_ , in ways that Steph can't quite imagine. Pretty soon, she's panting, moaning like no one can hear her. (There is no one, no one but Kate, whose got a smile on her face that wouldn't be out place on a crocodile.)

"Shit! Fuck! _Fuck!_ " Steph is babbling, she can't help it, what sort of fucking witchcraft is this -- a brief recollection of her past sexual encounters -- fumbling in the dark, that fuckhead who got her pregnant -- staring neutrally at Tim, naked and in bed, with the dawning realization that _this isn't going to work, is it?_ \-- long nights spent longing for Cass, okay, masturbating _to_ Cass -- and God, God, what the _Hell_ , Kate...

Kate pulls back, her tangle of red hair a mess, but otherwise perfectly calm, perfectly collected. She even looks a little bored, the bitch. Steph feels like she's been blown up and then pieced back together again, by someone who only has the vaguely idea of how a human being _works_.

"Y-you blew my mind," she says. _Stutters_. Kate yawns, delicately. Her lip are naturally rose-pink. Steph isn't, well, she's not as graceful as Kate (the back of her mind chimes in, "As Cass," but hey, _everyone's_ got their ghosts), and so she'd wobbly, getting up on her knees and lumbering over to Kate. (Whose green eyes widen, whose pretty pink lips form into a pleased smile.)

Steph pounces, her mouth intent on Kate's, _tasting, pursuing, taking_.

She's free.


End file.
